For Cacti to Bloom: A Gaara Fanfiction
by Fangie-Chan
Summary: "Why, it was something so small and insignificant, he thought; a complete accident, a seed of unintentional affection planted on his lips that night by his drunken guard while she was off duty. He never thought that it would, let alone could flower into such a bewildering sentiment inside of him." (Rated M for adult themes. Two years after the events of Gaara Hiden.)
1. Flower

**AN: Hey look, I wrote something that isn't KibaHina! Lol. Well, if anyone's wondering where I've been, and I say the same thing every time, life is just busy and inspiration has been lacking for the better part of the last few years. I'm still here, guys. Every favorite, every review, everything goes straight to my inbox. I see it all and it means a lot to me that I still have you guys. Thank you. As for my KibaHina fics, I'll probably continue one day, but not now. I'm trying something new and sometimes I honestly want to cringe or slam my face into my desk when I read some of my old fanfics and think, "oh God, no, gross, that's so dirty, omfg, why, why, why, ew, *blushes*, holy shit I really used to be a perverted high school weeb virgin." XD**

 **Anywho, about this fic. Most of you are probably wondering "Who the fuck is Shijima Houki? Is she an OC?" No. She's a character in the written novel of the Naruto post-chapter 699 series of novels, a main character in Gaara Hiden. If you'd like to read up on her, just google "Gaara Hiden English translation" for the person who translated the whole thing on Tumblr. It's a good read, but I won't spoil it, lol. I'll just say that Shijima becoming Gaara's right-hand guard is canonical to the novel, and that's all I'm going to say. I just wanted to write about him in a pairing with someone who** ** _isn't_** **a Konoha nin.**

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 **Flower: A Gaara Oneshot**

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It had been a couple weeks of his foreign thoughts and emotions haunting him, and Gaara still couldn't get quite past any of it; let alone understand where any of this inner turmoil was coming from and why it troubled him so. Why, it was something so small and insignificant, he thought; a complete accident, a seed of unintentional affection planted on his lips that night by his drunken guard while she was off duty. He never thought that it would, let alone _could_ flower into such a bewildering sentiment inside of him. It wasn't on purpose. No. Shijima wasn't like the other young subordinates in Sunagakure who gushed over the Kazekage; she wasn't one of the giggling, unwanted admirers his sister Temari would always be more than happy to shoo away. The raven was his right-hand woman, now that his big sister was off and married in the leaf. She was his guard; an advisor, and a trusted friend when he needed an ear to listen to his deepest thoughts. Shijima was a rather stern individual a couple years older than him who took her job seriously, and thus not exactly the kind of person Gaara imagined would let this sort of thing go easily; especially when it was something she'd never remember doing while under the influence. He couldn't fathom a real way of approaching her about it. The excessively pensive man had been trying to come up with different ways to discuss the incident with her, all to no avail.

Just how was he supposed to tell her, anyway? She'd been embarrassed enough the next morning when she had woken up with a massive headache, realizing she had overestimated her alcohol tolerance and gotten drunk at Kankuro's twenty-fourth. Gaara remembered her profusely apologizing in the privacy of his office when she came to stand guard for him, despite that he held no ill feelings for her accidentally drinking too much and had expressed to her many times that she should forgive herself, as he had already forgiven her.

This was going to be an arduous subject to discuss for Gaara. Despite being a twenty-two year-old man, the Kazekage was still completely oblivious to the ways of the world; even more clueless than his closest friend had grown up being for most of his life, the blond Hokage.

Gaara sighed to himself as he ran a fingertip over the fresh bloom of a cactus plant growing in his rooftop greenhouse, petting the velvety petal as he succumbed to the very memory the smallest of things seemed to trigger. The fragile blossom felt like silk; akin to something he recalled precisely enough to compare the texture to. It reminded him of the way Shijima's face felt pressed against his own for what felt like the longest two seconds of his life; soft like the peel of a ripe peach, a fruit not found in Sunagakure. It was unfamiliarly pleasant; unimaginable and indescribable, something Gaara had never in his life known the taste of, until he had it pressed up to his mouth. Just like-

"Shijima."

The name hadn't come as a longing sigh of wistful musings. It was an acknowledgement that Gaara was too trained of a shinobi to say with any sort of weakness or emotion, belying his private thoughts just moments ago.

"Gaara-Sama." He was acknowledged back, through the familiar sound of smiling lips. Her voice was always poised and calm, matching her lord's outward demeanor.

Gaara had to remind himself to continue breathing evenly once he turned to greet her. Her beauty was nothing out of the ordinary to him by now after spending nearly every day of the past two years with her by his side. It was something anyone with eyes could see, even someone as clueless about the ways of the world as Gaara, though he never particularly developed any affection for anything external about a person.

The moonlight cast a glow over Shijima's pale face as she straightened herself from a bow, her inky black hair neatly edging just past her shoulders. Behind the narrow rims of her glasses were her synthetic Sharingan, which she had learned to control over time spent with Gaara, yet still used an ocular sealing jutsu for as an extra safety measure. Her lips were blood-red like her eyes, painted as a tradition of the Houki tribe's women. Shijima was a smallish, slender woman not much shorter than Gaara himself. Her body reminded him of a sharp, crescent moon; pallid luminance enveloped by dark skies.

For the first time, the Kazekage forgot to exhale. For only a moment, his mind became overwhelmingly flooded by the emotional and physical recollection of being kissed by Shijima. It was so, so very brief, over by the time he could blink.

"You're up late," he commented, reaching for the canister of water for his cacti collection, "have you come to see the stars, or gather supplies for medicine?"

"Ahh," Shijima smilingly walked to the row of plants behind the Kazekage, "a bit of both, I suppose. I found news of there being a comet tonight and was intrigued. I also need to gather a few cactus pads for medicine. The usual."

Gaara continued to carefully water each cactus plant, specifically knowing how much each individual one needed to thrive on. He soon came to a stop at a larger pot of growing cacti. It was a big, hilly mass of long, white thorns adorned by crimson flowers. A cactus family that once long ago reminded Gaara of blood drops on fresh snow now reminded him of spring blooming over the end of winter in Konohagakure. Funny, he thought, how people's perspectives over the simplest thing could somehow change as they too changed over time. His heart swelled at the pretty red color of the cacti he had proudly raised himself, but before his chest would tighten at the sudden intrusive thought which barged in unwelcomed to his mind. That bloody crimson was the make-up Shijima always wore on her lips, as the tradition that a man may never see a Houki woman bare-faced before they are wed.

Gaara had always been fond of the color. Was he even fonder of it, now?

He remembered how Shijima looked that night, in a navy dress and strappy high heels, her hair in an updo. Her crimson lips were slightly smeared at the edges, her cup of alcohol stained around the brink with crescent-shaped marks. He remembered how she drank too much too quickly and how he couldn't blame her for not knowing that she had an extremely low tolerance for drinks, much like he had, and for the very reason Gaara never drank more than a sip. It was a tiny mishap, and she had been drinking at his brother Kankuro's twenty-fourth birthday party at the Kazekage mansion. A simple mistake of getting too comfortable around friends and family was made, and Gaara had escorted her upstairs to her own living sector when she started feeling ill.

He remembered how light she felt in his arms; as light as a feather, the dainty beads decorating her navy blue dress gently clinging onto his silk suit as he held her close.

"I…I didn't think those drinks were too strong…" She groaned warmly into Gaara's neck, "I guess I drank too much too fast …Heh…"

"Common mistake," was all Gaara said, careful to watch his step over the narrow stairway up to a main elevator.

"Shit, my head is pounding!"

He paid no mind to her cursing.

"The effects of alcohol; also one of the many reasons I don't like to drink."

"Mm…Bad idea, huh?"

"Very. But I suppose it's alright just this one time, for this occasion. Shijima, where would you like me to place you?"

"Anywhere is fine…Ahh…Thank you, Gaara…"

At that, the Kazekage realized just how drunk she had gotten. Shijima had forgotten to use the honorific after his name. Not that Gaara minded, however; but he knew she must have been heavily intoxicated to not act like her usual, highly formal self. It was something the sober Shijima would never even dream of doing.

Gaara opened the door to her sector of the mansion, where he found her living room couch and propped her to lay against the arm rest in an upright position. He wasted no time in finding a pillow and blanket from her bedroom and came back to cover her from the cold. In a short moment he had provided her with a glass of water, a small trash from her kitchen, and paper towels and placed them neatly on the floor for her in case she'd need to throw up later. It took Gaara a moment to figure out how to unstrap her high heels and get them off of her tired feet. He found out she was ticklish by accident; a quirk he didn't know of before despite how much else he knew about the woman.

"Don't try to leave on your own," He sounded out firmly, his green eyes a bit wide as he came close to her, "do you understand, Shijima?"

Shijima blinked a few times as she stared at the red-haired man blankly. It took her a moment to nod a few times as she seemed to wander off and stare at different parts of his face.

Gaara gave a deep sigh, knowing damn well she didn't understand shit.

"I'm just going to call an attendant to watch over you. You seem to have no idea what's going on…" He laid his palm over her forehead, checking for a rise in temperature.

"I-I'm okay…" She slurred a little, gently taking his hand in both of hers as she yawned, "I can take care of myself, Gaara."

"Forgive me, but I don't believe you. Anyway, I'm going to make that call and have someone be here shortly." Gaara tried to stand and withdraw his hand, only to be stopped.

"Wait."

He wanted to question her, but not before Shijima pulled him close, coming to whisper something into his ear. That sort of closeness was something Gaara had grown used to from having her as his trusted guard; it was only the fact that she was drunk while doing so that made him a want to be cautious with her.

"You're a very kind man. Thank you."

Gaara felt at ease, then; a bit surprised that Shijima saw a gesture like that as something uncommon enough in the shinobi world to call him kind. He'd never been used to the word until she'd come along and always used it to describe him. Was that all she wanted to tell him? Gaara had no real need to hesitate, he thought. She was indeed drunk, but not flirtatious or obnoxious like most other people, and the most inappropriate things she had done so far in front of him were address him informally and curse once before. Gaara didn't need to worry.

…Or did he?

When Shijima finished thanking him and drew away from him, she came to face him directly, cupping the side of his neck in her affectionate hand.

It all happened so very fast. Gaara remembered how his heart leapt into his throat the moment his eyes laid on hers; how the little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his pores tightened at the way Shijima held him, at the way her touch felt. Her slender fingers lay soft and warm over his cold, goosebumps-ridden skin. Her Sharingan were glazed over, partially hooded by her lids as she pierced right into his very being with nothing but a lazy stare from above the relaxed frame of her glasses. Gaara knew very well that despite the dojutsu her synthetic eyes were imbued with, she had learned to curb the failed experiment Orochimaru had left her eyes with long ago. They were under the control of her chakra, even now, as a result of her body's strict training. The Kazekage wasn't caught in any sort of genjutsu right then and there. No. He was free to move. Free to push her away. Free to move or even use sand. Free to stop what he could see coming a mere moment before it did, much like an assault in the battlefield he would be trained to detect. But, Gaara froze. As a kage, he was the most powerful, most trained shinobi in all of the wind country. There was no reason for him to be paralyzed here…Not like this. Not by something as simple as a familiar woman being mere inches from his face.

However…Gaara was a man. He was a human being with feelings and emotions. Beneath all of that training, he still had a heart, and a very soft one. Shijima had somehow managed to reach it and struck a chord. Something awakened inside of him that night when for the very first time, he felt a completely foreign sentiment he'd never knew existed before. The mere look from Shijima's eyes commanded his permission, and he allowed himself to welcome an unspoken wish, succumbing to a very human, mutual desire that only for that moment alone felt justifiable.

"Gaara-Sama? Are you alright?"

The sudden voice by Gaara's side caused him to snap out of his thoughts, though he remained perfectly still, resisting a flinch.

"Yes, just thinking to myself." He looked to Shijima, his once-alarmed eyes softening when they met with her smiling face. He allowed himself to steal a glance at her perfectly painted lips as she spoke.

"Ahh." The raven was serious again, "you've been more quiet than usual lately, my lord…You haven't quite been the same."

She was well-trained indeed. Even with someone as unreadable as Gaara, Shijima knew something was off with him. She spent the better part of the past two years by his side after having sworn her loyalty to him as his right-hand woman after he had spared not only her life, but her younger sister's and her sister's now-husband when the trio had once attempted to defy the village. Shijima had gotten very close to Gaara over time. She had learned how to read the things about him that were invisible to anyone but his family and close circle.

"No, I haven't." Gaara agreed, setting the watering tin down by his shelf of cacti. It took him a moment to bring his gaze to meet Shijima's again, but his voice was steady and strong, as always, "Shijima, there's something I've been needing to discuss with you."

Shijima's eyes widened with curiosity behind her glasses as she peered up to meet his. Was is another high-ranked mission? No, no…There was something, then. She worried upon the realization that his stoic green orbs had become completely unreadable. She knew then that he was making a conscious effort to conceal whatever he was feeling inside of him. Unreadable, but she knew her Kazekage so well. He could hide his emotions from her, but she knew when he did.

Her heart sunk ever so slightly. This was a personal matter, she understood.

"Yes? Did something happen?"

"Yes…I think it's time that I tell you."

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 **AN: MWAHAHAHAHAHA I'm fucking cruel. But just because I'm still nice deep down, there will be a sequel and conclusion...eventually. I'll write it up soon. I hope you guys enjoyed. Reviews appreciated. Sorry ahead of time if my writing style sucks, I've been out of the fanfiction groove for the better part of a few years.**


	2. Rose Petals

**AN: Conclusion to the one shot. I'll probably make this a series of little one shots. Or a fic. I dunno. I'm enjoying it so far. PS life is busy, sorry if I go long periods of time with no updates.**

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 **Chapter two: Rose Petals**

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The night air of Sunagakure was deathly quiet and painfully frigid, much like the silence Gaara shared with Shijima as they both sat outside against the glass of his rooftop greenhouse, watching the stars. They'd been sitting there for a short while as the Kazekage tried to find the right words to say, but it felt like an eternity to both of them. Shijima wasn't as patient as the man. She'd kept herself busy by watching the brief fog her breath would make every time she released a slow, steady exhale. It would have been rude if she were to stare at Gaara, as if waiting for him to begin elaborating on what he had meant to discuss with her. She knew better than to rush him, already used to the fact that he'd carefully think over everything that would come out of his mouth, being that he had always been a man of few words. Although, she'd side-eye him frequently, waiting for some sort of indication that he'd speak up.

Then, it came. Gaara sighed and his eyes softened, though they didn't leave the sky before them.

"Firstly," he began, "I want you to know that you are not in any sort of trouble."

Shijima's artificial Sharingan went wide with shock behind her thinly-framed glasses as she stared at the kazekage's face. His skin was eerily pale in the moonlight, more so than usual. She could see the faint reflection of the stars flickering in the steely gaze of his pastel green eyes.

Gaara was terrifyingly beautiful, and this certainly wasn't the first time she'd thought so; even in a moment like this, it proved to be a momentarily distracting thought.

"I'm only bringing this up because it wouldn't be right to hide it. I would if I could, to spare you the embarrassment," he finally turned to peer at her, poker-faced as always, "Shijima…Do you remember anything at all from my brother's birthday celebration? Anything at all after you'd become drunk?"

Oh, but the embarrassment already began to kick in at those words. Shijima bit her crimson-painted lip at the thought of there being anything worse than her Kazekage seeing her intoxicated. But there was more to it than just that, and she knew it, by the way this conversation was headed.

"No," she looked off, away from Gaara. Her milky face became a soft pink beneath the frames of her glasses as she adjusted them up the narrow bridge of her nose. "I woke up on my couch, tucked in. You told me that you were the one who escorted me to my sector, Gaara-Sama, but-…I don't remember a thing between toasting a drink with everyone and waking up the next morning with a massive head ache. Forgive me."

"Hn." He nodded, satisfied, "people do things they wouldn't normally do when they become drunk; often times never being able to recall. That's part of the reason why I'm not upset with you…but, also, I can't be upset because you taught me something I never would have known existed in this world, otherwise."

Shijima still had no clue what on earth Gaara was talking about, but judging by his cautiousness, she could tell he was slowly approaching the subject, and as gently as possible. Whatever it was, she knew it must have been deeply sensitive information that no one else could know about. The raven turned her back from the glass of the green house to directly face the man beside her. She was eagerly curious, her impatience and fear slowly increasing.

Gaara mimicked her motion, then, "tell me about when you first knew you wanted to become an assassin for Sunagakure."

"Uh-..h?" Shijima blurted out, subconsciously reached a loose fist to her mouth before she caught herself and cleared her throat, straightening her posture.

 _"I sound so stupid…"_ She inwardly mused, thrown completely off-guard by Gaara's seemingly random question.

"Ahh, yes," She eyed briefly frowned, as if wondering if he was truly alright. After all, Gaara knew her background deeply. It puzzled her as to why he asked her to tell him this story again; one of the many he knew of her life, "I grew up wanting to be a medic like most of the women of my clan, having lost my mother at a young age when she was murdered on a failed mission. She was an assassin. I could never relate; never understand why anyone would want to kill in the name of the law and fight for that sort of justice. It was something I had tried for so long to grasp the concept of, but the more I tried, the more confused I became. I didn't understand why the people of this world loved that part of life so much. Then, one day, there was an invasion in my village and I was forced to fight to protect my younger sister. That's when I understood. It was an adrenaline. I could have ran, but I didn't. I faced what came head on and found that I actually reveled every second. The thrill. The adrenaline. I found happiness in it. It was a sort of happiness…"

"…Like no other?"

"Yes. It was a feeling I never thought existed until I felt it myself. No matter how much I'd hear people talk of how fulfilling it was to fight as a ninja for the ones we love and protect, I didn't understand until I had to myself…Until a challenge came and I made the choice to face the unknown, and I ended up liking it…But-…Gaara-Sama," Shijima returned her gaze to the Kazekage's, "what does any of that have to do with whatever I did under the influence? Had I killed someone?"

Gaara's smile became a bit more noticeable at that last part. He found it somewhat ironic that Shijima's mind jumped to something so horrible and wrong rather than assume that she had committed an innocent misconduct, such as kissing the Kazekage himself.

"No, you didn't lay hands on anyone but me."

Shijima concealed a gasp that threatened to leave her mouth. Had she attempted to hurt her lord? Before she could beg for forgiveness, let alone utter a single word, Gaara looked for her hand and lifted it off her dark kimono, cupping it over the side of his own neck. Her skin was cold this time, while his was warm; opposite of their first intimate contact. He remembered how her touch was a gentle one, as affectionate as the last, however this time frozen with fear. He made her fingers relax when he stretched his own to cover them.

"Touch has a memory," he came a bit closer, forcing her eyes wide at the gesure, "does this remind you of anything?"

Shijima sat like rock, her guard in complete shambles by something as simple as holding a man affectionately. As a stone-cold, ruthless assassin that swore her life under the loyalty of her country and most importantly, the Kazekage, she felt absolutely pathetic. How could something this seemingly insignificant melt her heart and crumble all of her defenses? Was this really the person Gaara hired to be his right-hand guard? Not that he even needed one, anyway. That became more apparent to Shijima, now. He never truly needed a guard, and that she always knew of. He just enjoyed her company more than being alone; as much as he enjoyed his siblings before Temari had moved to Konoha to marry and Kankuro had become the leader of Suna's counter-terrorism divison.

As perplexing as it was to Shijima for Gaara to allow her to touch him in such an intimate manner, there was something even more peculiar than that itself. Her hand recognized the way his skin felt when it shouldn't have, and the woman hadn't known how this was possible when the only times she had ever touched him before were in combat or a brush of the knuckles while passing official papers.

"I-…I don't know, I-…" Shijima fished for words, as if they refused to come to her. She had succumb to speechlessness; weakened and rendered into a sort of vulnerability she hadn't known she possessed deep down. No matter how soft Gaara's pearly green eyes were now, fixed on her own above the frame of her glasses, they struck her silent with shock at how close they were, now. The Kazekage was less than a foot from her face. It was like some sort of dream; the world around them erasing from the existence of her mind entirely.

Was this even real? Had this been anyone other than Sabaku No Gaara daring to be this intimate with her, Shijima would have killed them in cold blood before they'd be able to flinch towards her. Yet, this man was the only exception. She didn't know why, at first. It wasn't because he was the Kazekage. It wasn't because he was the strongest shinobi in all of the Wind and she'd never have a chance against his power. No. It was because Shijima had genuinely adored Gaara from the bottom of her heart. He was always so kind to her. He respected her. He cared for her.

"It reminds me of something," she whispered, afraid to even breathe this close to the Kazekage's face. It was like chiseled marble under the pale moonlight. I don't know what, exactly. Gaara-Sama, what happened that night, at Kankuro-Sama's birthday celebration? Why does this all seem so familiar? Please, I need to know, now."

"Would you rather I tell you or remind you myself?"

It was a simple question, nothing affectionate nor playful, but something in Gaara's eyes changed, then. For the briefest of moments, Shijima could have sworn she saw his gaze flicker to her lips before she finished blinking. That's when it all fell into place; why he had been quieter than usual for the past two weeks; why he had seemingly for no reason at all asked her to tell him a story of her childhood. It was all connected, leading up to this moment. Her subconscious racked her conscious mind with a sudden flush of inhibited memories. It happened in a flash, but Shijima recalled every second. She remembered how this red-haired man's lips were soft and his skin was smooth. She remembered what kissing him felt like and that those couple seconds of bliss were ones she'd never forget again.

Shijima's hand gained confidence, then. She traced her fingertips into Gaara's hairline and held him on her own, allowing him to mirror her gesture and gently cup her face.

Her eyes softened as she let out the slightest of chuckles, gaining back an equally faint smile from her auburn-haired Kazekage. She understood now what she had taught him that night; she realized that her innocent kiss was what it took for him to finally grasp the concept of the ways of the world, for himself; not just from books, not just from curious inquiries and confusing answers, but from finally getting a real taste of it all his own. Gaara never knew how this stuff worked until he had experienced it himself, thanks to Shijima. He found a completely new and foreign source of happiness there, within her. It was different from every other sense of fulfillment in his life.

"I remember, now. Your lips felt like rose petals." She quietly confessed, closing the gap between them.

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 **AN: Okay well that concludes the first one shot chapter thing, whatever you will. Reviews appreciated!**


	3. Flourish

**AN: Friendly reminder that if anyone still doesn't know who Shijima is, they should read the English translation of Gaara Hiden on Tumblr. Yes, she's a canonical character to that novel. She's not an OC. Anyways, on with the story! Some Temari in this chapter.**

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 **Chapter Three: Flourish**

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The air was deliriously hot in Sunagakure. There was no spring, no fall, no winter here; only a heat which could closely be described as the wrath of the devil himself upon the barren wasteland. In the very middle of said wasteland was the clumped up village of the sand, sunken into the earth in a great crater far too level to be of nature's natural occurrence. It was said that gods far before the existence of shinobis had carved the oasis into the desert themselves, forging the vast stone walls that enclosed Suna from the rest of the unforgiving, lifeless land.

It was different than the leafy, springy Konohagakure far away in the land of Fire, where Shijima grew up. It was hell here in the unrelenting desert. The only thing that made it worth her stay here was the Kazekage. At first, serving under Gaara as his guard was a mere duty for Shijima; a thank you in exchange that he had spared not only her life but her younger sister's two years ago after an elaborate coup de tat from Suna's elders had gone severely wrong and involved the Houki sisters. To show her gratitude for his mercy, Shijima staked her life from now as an oath to her fierce loyalty for the Kazekage.

That's really all it was, at first. She hated the desert; hated the way the days were long and blistering hot while the nights were painfully freezing. It took a lot of getting used to at first, but over time, Shijima had adapted well to the lifestyle of Sunagakure shinobi. She'd learned to call it her new home and endure the harsh reality of the desert. Besides…When it meant she could serve under the Kazekage, none of it seemed so bad anymore. Shijima never really had to adjust herself to the stoic, unreadable, impassive Gaara, nor his deadpan way of talking, nor his expressionless character. She always liked him as a human being after having witnessed his soft heart herself when he could have easily done the lawful thing and killed both her and Hakuto years ago, when the sisters had attempted to go rogue from Suna.

Evaluating everything up to this point, Shijima honestly didn't know exactly when she had started developing affection for Gaara. Had it always been there? Did it flourish over time? She was at a complete loss for knowledge over her own, unconscious sentiments. All the woman knew was that she was genuinely fond of the man; in ways different from the massive horde of female admirers he had (much to his chagrin and Temari's annoyance), and different from his family and friends.

Gaara, on the other hand, was still completely clueless about romance. It had been months since he had kissed Shijima. Neither of them had touched on the subject once since; either too naïve about how, or most likely, too occupied by their duties as Kazekage and Suna's most vital guard to the council. Despite all the alone time they'd spent together, usually with Gaara sifting through heaps of paperwork behind his desk and Shijima silently watching over him when she wasn't on a mission, both the man and the woman were too dedicated to their obligations to find any sort of 'perfect moment' to address the matter with more important things on their hands. They let it slide, in a way, but had never truly forgotten about it; always being reminded of their unspoken affection by subtle glances and not-so-awkward silences.

…That is, until a certain someone came to pay her little brother a visit.

"Ahh, Gaara, I knew I'd find you here."

There were very few in the desert allowed to speak to Gaara so casually. Among these few was his older sister.

"As always," the man mused, never lifting an eye off of his paperwork. He'd been expecting her; his words warm, "it's been far too long, Temari. I can't remember the last time you were here, in Suna."

A soft laugh tumbled from the woman's lips as she approached the Kazekage's desk. His heart filled with silent glee when he peered up to see a gleaming smile on her face. She was as radiant and beautiful as always; her hair the color of his sand, tied into four, the emerald of her eyes even sharper than the edge of the giant steel fan that hung behind her back.

"That's what happens when you become a mother," she chuckled, pulling up a chair opposite to him across from the desk.

"How is Shikamaru? And Shikadai? Are they doing well, are they both healthy?"

"Yes, very, thank you. Shikadai turns three months today. He's been a quiet and well-behaved boy; just like his father."

"I'd expect no less than quiet and well-behaved, with a mother like you."

Temari concealed a laugh with her scoff, crossing her arms and legs, "Tch! Calling me stern, are you, _Lord Kazekage_?"

"Perhaps," Gaara showed the faintest of smiles at her sarcastic wit, folding his hands beneath his chin, "something like that, anyway."

The blonde chuckled to herself, having no excuse for her intensity. Her bother knew her very well.

"And Kankuro?" She mused, grabbing a random pile of papers out of curiosity. There were contracts for new hospitals in Suna. Judging from that, the village was doing well financially; better than when she had visited prior to her pregnancy.

"He's been on a high-rank mission with his counter-terrorism unit ever since we finished celebrating his birthday."

Gaara's jaw stiffened at the end of his sentence. A sudden flash of memories barraged his mind at the mentioning of Kankuro's party.

"How was that? I didn't get to send him a computer file wishing him good health. I'd been giving birth the same night."

"Ahh," was all the Kazekage could manage. He stared off at the blonde woman before him, his green eyes as blank and pale as the rest of his face. Gaara looked like chiseled marble; an unreadable statue. He wasn't completely there anymore. His mind was somewhere far, far away then for some reason, and Temari quickly caught on.

The blonde shut her eyes and took a deep breath through a stretched smile. She was frustrated; far too impatient to deal with trying to read her beloved yet maddeningly passive little brother.

"The party, _Gaara_ ," She repeated, glaring as if hoping the intensity of her gaze would catch his attention, "how was it? Did you enjoy yourselves?"

Gaara regained his focus at the stress of his name. Not that it showed, anyway.

"It was a nice change of pace from our obligations, and yes, we did, thank you."

That was all the redhead said before searching for his pen, resuming whatever paperwork he had waiting in front of him.

Temari furrowed her brows at him, prying. Something was up with the man; she knew him well enough to know that. Asking would have never worked, anyway. Gaara was impossible to reach out to, which made an impatient Temari a very infuriated older sister. She always had to wait for him to come to her, if he ever even did. Gaara had always been a man of little words and mostly just kept things to himself. She'd be lucky if he chose to share any personal information about his thoughts and feelings. He'd either have to be desperate, deeply concerned, or have a burning curiosity; sometimes all three.

Sighing over the oddly comforting, familiar silence of Gaara slaving away at his paperwork, Temari lazily looked around his office. Nothing ever changed, here. The decoration stayed exactly the same for years, and it always felt like home for her to spend her time watching her little brother patiently, diligently get through his paperwork as the evening sun shone through the tiny windows, reflecting like fire off of Gaara's auburn hair. This is how it used to be before she moved to Konoha and married. She would sit here and tirelessly watch over him every single day that she was on guard-duty.

 _"I suppose it's to his advantage that Gaara rarely ever sleeps,"_ She smiled bittersweetly to herself, "It feels just like old times…And to think Kankuro always complained about how it would bore him out of his mind to dillydally here while you got through paper after paper. Now he's out and about patrolling Suna; at least that gives him something more exciting to do. I hope Shijima isn't the same. I can't really see her taking her responsibilities lightly."

Gaara's pen came off the paper, then; only momentarily. Temari noticed but thought nothing of it.

"No," he answered, resuming his writings.

"Where is she, anyway?" The woman looked around, standing to crack her back, "On another mission?"

"Visiting Hakuto and Shigezane in Konoha."

"Ah-!…She headed off alone?-"

"She's an assassin and my most trusted guard," Gaara looked up, then, "I'm confident in her abilities to take down any enemies who oppose her. Besides, I've taught her how to endure through the weather changes in Suna on her travels. She's perfectly safe."

"…Oh," was all Temari could say, somewhat surprised by how quickly he came to Shijima's defense. She hadn't meant it to belittle her. It was mere concern over a trusted ally heading out of one country into another completely unaccompanied. Gaara wouldn't let his right-hand guard out like that unless he wholly trusted in her abilities. She was the one tasked with protecting him, after all. Despite that Temari didn't know her as well as she wished, she knew the raven was no joke; an artificial pair of Sharingan and being a master of genjutsu meant she was a highly capable kunoichi.

"…How has she been?" Temari traced the corner of Gaara's desk, circling around to meet the wall behind him where a few picture frames hung.

"Fine," Gaara answered as a matter of factly, "since the last time you visited, she's learned to control her dojutsu."

"No more bulky glasses?" Temari took a photograph off the wall.

"No. She'll usually wear light ones to restrict their power, if any."

Temari traced a picture of their father, Rasa. Looking at Gaara now, he resembled him greatly; a dutiful Kazekage devoted to his work. It wasn't just the auburn hair and black rings around his eyes. He truly did inherit more than a thing or two from the Kazekage. For one, he was infuriatingly private.

"Ahh, good. It's about time she got rid of those ugly things," Temari teased, "such a shame to have to hide a pretty face. I bet she gets hit on a lot without them."

"..."

There it was again. Gaara's pen stopping in the middle of a kanji. It was brief, but once again, Temari caught it for certain this time. It had to mean something if it was enough to halt her focused little brother's train of eyed the back of his head curiously, unable to see his face as she put the picture back on the wall and came around his desk to sit in her chair. Temari could have sworn there was a very light furrow on Gaara's forehead, right where his brows would tense, have he had any. He must have been racking his brain over something, now; but what?

"Wish I knew her a little more than based on her ninja files and what her sister in Konoha says about her; I've only gotten to meet her a few times, after all," Temari probed the subject, heavily analyzing Gaara's face for any more cues. She was definitely on the right track. "She passed the lead of the Houki clan down to Hakuto after Orochimaru transplanted Sharingan into her eyes years ago, right?"

"Yes."

"So, no duty as an heir of a matriarchal clan means she has no lover?"

"No."

"And you know this _how_ , Gaara?"

Gaara's pen stopped again, but this time he actually looked at Temari square in the eye. She could tell by the eye-contact that he was annoyed before he could even sigh at her. Despite that he remained poker-faced, a master at looking serene, she knew him well enough to feel an imaginary glare coming from his impassive green orbs.

"You truly are father's daughter," he folded his hands beneath his chin once more, "and furthermore, my big sister."

Temari smiled smugly as she crossed her arms and shut her eyes in satisfaction, "expect nothing less from me. Now tell me, Gaara. What is it? I know something's on your mind, and I've yet to figure out what, so spare me the trouble of having to guess."

"If I must. I didn't intend to tell anyone about this, but…" the man sighed pensively, "I suppose it would do me good to tell at least one person, and I believe that one person should be you, since you're a woman and understand these things better than I or Kankuro do. Perhaps you can enlighten me."

Temari nodded attentively, her interest peeked as she watched her brother carefully select his words.

"…I believe Shijima has some sort of romantic interest in me."

Slowly, Temari's brow came into a confused furrow. That was definitely not anything near the several assumptions she'd already mentally made about what could have been plaguing Gaara's mind.

"Eh? And you've come to this conclusion _how_ , exactly?" She cocked her head aside.

"Well…That's what it means when a woman kisses a man on the lips, correct?"

Her eyes popped wide fucking open.

"She did _**WHAT**_?!" Temari roared, her fists hitting the table as she shot up from her seat.

Gaara stared up at her silently, reclining his back into his chair. He sat as straight as a pin, much like an obedient child receiving a motherly scolding for something he had no blame for.

"I kissed her back," he admitted bluntly, never once faltering at the heat of enraged emerald eyes burning through his very soul, "and then I kissed her again two weeks later, out of my own free will."

Temari's jaw went slack and her shoulders dropped. The smoldering fire in her eyes seemed to have been doused immediately with a harsh bucket of a very unexpected reality: the fact that her little brother, for the first time in his twenty-two year-old-life, _finally_ understood something of romantic value.

"You…Y-you kissed her, Gaara?" Temari gasped, "you…Kissed her all by yourself? As in, you made the first move?"

"Yes," Gaara answered, using the gentle persuasion of his hand to lead his shocked-still sister back into her chair, "and to this day, I have no explanation as to why I did, other than that I simply wanted to."

"To this day? Wait, how long ago did this happen?"

"Three months ago, exactly. She kissed me at Kankuro's birthday celebration while she had been drunk and couldn't remember. A couple weeks later, I kissed her to remind her of what she did."

Temari's face saddened a little and her voice dropped, "oh…So it was a mere reminder?"

"Entirely so," he confirmed, his voice and expression as indifferent as always.

The woman's heart squeezed tight. She'd been rooting for him just to be let down when just for a second, she imagined the possibility of Gaara understanding affection beyond family and friends.

"Although…" Gaara continued, staring off in thought, "I suppose I didn't _dis_ like it…"

Temari let go of an exasperated sigh of relief, "Oh!"

"-Her lips were soft," he went on, never hearing his sister, "and her breath was warm against my face. I'm not exactly sure why something that simple has gained my consideration, or why I wouldn't want to share it with anyone else. I wouldn't kiss my friends or family that way. I feel as if that would be unpleasant. Does that make kissing Shijima something special, Temari?"

"Y-…Yes…" She blissfully smiled, "yes it does, Gaara."

* * *

 **AN: Guys, please review if anyone is reading. I'd like to know people like this fanfic if I'm going to continue. Reviews mean a lot to me!**


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